Page 12 of Bernadette

He turned toward the voice that brought it all flooding back: drinking and talking with Kom, the tipsy thrill of boarding theRogueto indulge in a decent sparring match, the excitement ofa worthwhile opponent, then noticingherin the doorway staring at him and the world slamming to a halt.

Bernadette leaned against the foot of a bed in what could only be a medical facility. A ship’s medical bay, probably hers. Hell, he’d meant to be gone before she’d returned.

He cursed and sat up. “What time is it? I have to be on my transport first thing—”

“You were out for three hours,” she said. “I trust you’re in the clear?”

He blew out a relieved gust of air. He wasn’t in love with his current posting, but his credit account wasn’t exactly fat at the moment. He didn’t want to be begging for a job on Nove, where so many others were hustling for whatever vessel would give them a bed and meals.

“I’m sober but hurting.”

An Adraf, her chestnut coat gleaming, sauntered close. “I’m aware of how Nobeks prefer to suffer the glories of combat. The alcohol in your bloodstream has been diffused, but your bruises remain and lacerations healed only to where you won’t leave bloodstains on the way out. You’re released.”

“Not quite, Dr. Z.” Bernadette’s unsmiling regard froze Halmiko in place. “Medical supplies and the time you spent testing to make sure he’d still walk and talk on his own don’t come cheap on a private cargo transport. You owe me, Hal.”

He blinked at her. “Uh. Okay. How much?”

The figure she named left him gasping. It would damn near empty his entire account.

“I give only to the charities that deserve it. Staggering drunk onto my carrier and fighting as recreation isn’t donation-worthy,” she said.

He scowled. “It couldn’t have cost all that.”

“You were paid well when you played professional kurble, and the team covered your medical expenses. Then when youwent into the military afterward, they paid to keep you healthy. You’ve been a private contractor for less than two years, so I’m hardly surprised you’re unaware of the going rate for medical care.”

“I’ve had a few visits to doctors. I’ve never been charged such an outrageous amount anywhere.”

“Including Dantovon? Dr. Z had to go through their channels to find the proper medicines. The Nobeks of my crew had gone through what she had.”

“I’d hoped we’d have a cargo run to Kalquor space before anyone needed such expensive treatment,” Dr. Z sighed.

“Okay, but…for a few cuts and a little crack on the brain bucket?”

Bernadette smirked and tapped his forehead. “Not so little. Z had to counteract intracranial pressure on your brain, which can be fatal, then correct the skull fracture.”

“Shit.” He knew about such injuries from his sports days and how serious they were.

“Why do you think she kept you out for three hours?”

“I accept gratuities,” the Adraf called, shaking her long, furry neck as she grinned at him.

“You’ll have to settle for spoken gratitude, Doctor. I won’t have any money left for more than that,” he groaned. He eyed Bernadette grumpily. “Was it really that expensive, or are you padding it because you don’t like me?”

“I can supply you with a cost breakdown, if you wish. Quite the life lesson to learn there are harder things than a Nobek’s skull after all.”

He tried to feel grateful Bernadette hadn’t simply tossed him off her ship. Some transport captains would have. A few of the more considerate might have taken him to Nove’s hospital, but the Dantovonian-run facility would have taken one look at hisfinancial status, given him a pain inhaler, and sent him on his way to possibly die.

“Don’t kurble champions make a lot of money? What the hell did you do with it all?” Bernadette asked.

“Spent it, of course,” he grumbled. His booze fest with Kom had been nothing compared to the months he’d spent drinking in the aftermath of Zakla’s death on the kurble field. He’d gone through a fortune in a matter of months from drinking to ease the guilt of letting his team’s hurler get killed. Drunkenness had led to outrageous purchases, gambling, and whatever else he’d done during numerous blackouts.

He'd been forced to clean up his act when the war with Earth had erupted and he’d found himself drafted into the fleet. His diminished account and pride kept him from returning to extended bouts with the bottle.

Now he’d have nothing until he was paid again. He sighed. “Serves me right. If I ever see Kom coming toward me in a bar again, I’ll leave.”

“Will your account really be empty?” Bernadette stared at him, as if she were trying to decide something.

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay what I owe.” He sat up, ready to leave before he embarrassed himself further. He abruptly realized that under the sheet, which had slid to his waist, he wore nothing. “Shit. Kom wouldn’t have an extra…oh, thanks,” he said when Bernadette pointed to a pile of folded clothes at the foot of the bed.

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